


Local Color

by TheWonderTwins



Series: NaNoWriMo 2017 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bars, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gen, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Underage Drinking, but i started a week late, can be read as platonic or pre-relationship, keith is intense, maybe early Season 2, pidge is on a mission, rated T for mild language and underage drinking, so now it's just me writing short Kidge drabbles, this is like Season 1-ish, this started as a thing for NaNoWriMo, where i would write a short thing every day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 23:25:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12692352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWonderTwins/pseuds/TheWonderTwins
Summary: “Could this be more cliche?” Pidge muttered quietly.Keith smirked briefly. “We could get into a barfight.”“Please resist the urge to punch people.” Pidge requested.





	Local Color

Pidge found some things to be universal. Mathematical constants, the language of coding, Lance’s terrible pick up lines don’t work in any galaxy. 

And seedy bars existed wherever there were people and alcohol. 

On Earth, Pidge was considered too young to drink--most of the Paladins were, except Shiro--but that apparently didn’t matter on this planet because no one gave them a second glance as she and Keith made their way inside. 

It was poorly lit, dirty, and every piece of furniture looked like it had seen better decades. There was even the outer space equivalent of country music playing through the shitty sound system at a barely there volume. 

“Could this be more cliche?” Pidge muttered quietly. 

Keith smirked briefly. “We could get into a barfight.”

“Please resist the urge to punch people.” Pidge requested. 

Keith just shrugged and led the way to the back table where they were supposed to meet the contact. They were a little early, so he wasn’t there yet, but Pidge didn’t mind. It gave her the opportunity to try to look relaxed and confident, rather than on edge and eager. 

This was the first sniff of her father’s location that she’d received since rescuing those prisoners from the Galra ship while Keith had found the Red Lion, and she didn’t want to mess it up. They wouldn’t get another shot at this.

While Keith and Pidge waited for their contact, Shiro and the others at the castle were hosting a party for the local elite as a distraction. Shiro didn’t want Pidge to go alone, and Keith didn’t want to go to another party, so the Red Paladin jumped at the chance to ditch.

Pidge was relieved. Keith was the best fighter--next to Shiro--and if things went south, she’d be glad for his help.

“We should order something. Keep our cover.” Keith remarked, glancing at the bar.

“As long as it’s not nunvill.” Pidge agreed absently, reviewing the missive she’d gotten from the contact to make sure she had all the details. 

Keith set a dirty glass in front of her a dobosh or two later and it sloshed with disturbingly orange liquid. She glanced at his drink and saw he had something closer to mint green and purple in his equally dirty glass. There appeared to be a cleanish portion of the lip that Pidge felt was safe enough to press her mouth against, so they toasted silently and drank. Pidge grimaced at the bitter taste that reminded her of christmas trees and coffee and set her drink down a little way away. Keith has made a displeased face as well and did the same.

“Switch?”

“Definitely.” Keith agreed, grabbing the day-glo orange beverage. 

Pidge took the mint green and purple one and took a cautious sip. Citrusy tang and ginger spice greeted her tastebuds and she sighed, content. Much better. Keith nodded his own approval and they toasted again, with a touch more enthusiasm. 

The door to the bar opened, and Pidge expected to see her contact, but instead three large Galra soldiers walked in and made their way to the bar.

“Quiznak.” Pidge swore quietly.

Their heavy cloaks hid the Paladin armor from view, allowing her and Keith to blend in somewhat, but they were still humans. A Galra who knew anything about the Paladins would be on them in a couple tics. 

“Stay calm.” Keith placed a hand on her knee under the table. Through the cloak and her armor, she only felt a bit of pressure, but it was enough. “Keep you head down; they may not notice us.”

They certainly didn’t seem interested in anything but their drinks. As they loudly ordered and took the center table, kicking out the small aliens that already occupied it, these Galra looked less like disciplined soldiers and more like… brutes. Strangely, it looked like the other patrons in the bar were used to them. No one acted like they’d just been invaded by a hostile race, though there were some who shot them fearful glances, others just carried on like it was no big deal.

She had no idea if her contact would show with these guys in the bar. His boss had dealings with the Galra, off the books, which was how he had information on Pidge’s father. The party was supposed to distract the boss while Pidge’s contact brought her and Keith the information. 

With Galra _here_ , that made things difficult.

She itched to summon her bayard, but that would be a Bad Idea. The two of them could probably handle three Galra, but not without causing a scene, which would definitely scare away her contact, _and_ blow their cover, risking whatever information he carried becoming obsolete when it became clear someone else had gotten their hands on it. 

“Hey,” Keith moved to mostly block her line of sight to the Galra, filling her field of vision with his face, “don’t look at them, drink your drink, we’ll be fine.”

“We should keep an eye on them.” Pidge protested. 

“I am.” Keith promised, tapping his finger next to his eye and then pointing at her. Her glasses, she realized. She could see their reflection in the lenses. 

Which explained why he was looking at her _really_ intensely. To an outside observer, they probably looked like a couple gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes. 

Ridiculous, but effective to get people to look elsewhere. 

Pidge watched the door while Keith watched the Galra and both of them tried to look inconspicuous as they drank and waited. 

Tense situations apparently made Pidge hyperfocused on some things, like the fact that Keith’s hand was still on her knee, or that the music playing seemed to only have five different songs on repeat, but be so oblivious to others. Before she knew it, her glass was empty and she felt a little weightless. Or that she weighed less. Floaty! That was the word.

“You okay Pidge?” Keith’s focus shifted from the Galra reflection to Pidge herself.

“I feel like someone’s playing with the artificial gravity. Except we’re on a moon, and it doesn’t have A.G.” She giggled. Oops. 

Keith’s eyes widened slightly, looked at her empty glass, and cursed. “You’re drunk.”

“Tipsy.” She corrected, offended. “I am _not_ drunk off of one drink.”

“Shiro’s gonna kill me.”

The door opened before Pidge could tell Keith what a silly thought that was. In walked her contact, recognizable by the one vid message they’d exchanged during the set up. She started to wave, but Keith caught her hand before it got above the table and held it firmly out of sight.

“He knows where we are. Don’t draw attention.” He instructed. 

“Right. Sorry.”

He squeezed her hand and let go, taking a fortifying drink from his glass. 

Pidge watched as her contact saw them, saw the Galra, and then made his way slowly to the bar. He said something to the bartender and then walked out. Stricken, Pidge nearly stood to follow, but Keith pulled her down.

“Don’t.”

“He’s leaving!” She moaned, agonized that her first real lead to her father’s location just walked out the door. 

“Pidge, come on, those Galra are gonna know something’s up if you go charging after him.”

“You can take ‘em!”

Keith’s lip twitched in a suppressed grin and said, “Not a risk I’m willing to take while you’re… tipsy.”

Whatever scathing remark was about to leave her mouth died when the bartender put two more drinks on the table in front of them and grunted, “On the house,” and walked away, taking the empty glass with him. 

Curious, Pidge looked at the two drinks and noticed immediately that one of them was leaning just a hair to the left, the drink inside threatening to spill over. Pidge picked up the glass and felt the bottom, smiling excitedly to Keith as she pulled the attached chip away from the glass. 

“Oi! How come we don’t get free drinks?” One of the Galra demanded. 

“Cuz you’re ugly.” The bartender taunted, stepping behind the bar. 

Laughter was not the reaction Pidge expected from the Galra, but there it was. It was harsh and loud, but it was better than fighting. Keith motioned to the door for them to make their escape while everyone was still in a good mood. 

“Hey!” One of the Galra stood up. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Uh…” Keith and Pidge froze as all eyes fell on them. 

“You’re not gonna finish your drinks?” The Galra glared. 

“I think I’ve had too much already…” Pidge swayed a little, hoping it would convince them to leave.

“Is that right?” The other Galra stood as well and stood between them and the door.

Keith stepped in front of her protectively. 

“It’s rude to refuse a gift.” One of them sneered. 

“Maybe we should teach you a lesson in manners.”

“Keith…” Pidge put her hand on his arm. 

“If we drink it, you’ll let us go?” Keith asked.

The Galra didn’t say anything at first, just looked at each other, until one of them looked back to Keith and nodded with a sinister smirk. “If you can drink them all down and walk out of here, we won’t stop you.”

Just one of those had made Pidge more than a little tipsy. Keith was bigger than her, but not by too much. Three drinks would make even Keith unsteady, and if the Galra decided to attack anyway, they’d be in trouble.

“This may not be the best idea.” She whispered. 

Keith leveled her with one of his intense looks, “Do you trust me?”

“Yeah,” she answered easily. “It’s them I don’t trust.”

“What’s it going to be?” The Galra challenged. 

Keith glared at the Galra and reached behind Pidge for one of the glasses and brought it to his lips without breaking eye contact. Pidge and the Galra watched as he steadily drank the whole glass, before reaching back and grabbing the second. He drank it down just like the first. 

Despite his glare and confident exterior, Keith was swaying slightly after the second glass. By the darkly amused look on the Galra’s faces, they noticed too. Pidge took the third glass before Keith could and drank, ignoring the bitter christmas tree taste as best she was able. She knew she made a face, but if it meant the better fighter was less drunk, she’d happily take the Galra laughing at her. Thankfully, it was only the half-empty glass Keith had been nursing earlier, so there wasn’t as much for her to choke down.

Didn’t stop another wave of floatiness to warm her limbs and cloud her head.

“There.” She declared, slurring slightly, and set the glass down. “Can we go now?”

“If you can walk out, we won’t stop you.” The Galra said again as he and his friends moved between them and the exit.

Keith glared at them and sighed before turning to her and asking quietly, “You okay?”

“Not really.” Pidge admitted. Her stomach was starting to protest this adventure. “You?”

“For now. Let’s go. Lean on me if you need to.” Keith grabbed her hand and took a step toward the door and the Galra. 

Pidge followed Keith as he strode past the large, aggressive, purple aliens, but one of them shoulder checked her as she went by, disrupting her already shoddy balance. Rather than crash to the floor, she felt a hard tug as Keith pulled her past the Galra and caught her as she stumbled into him, holding her close as he leveled the Galra with another impressive glare.

“Oops.” The one that tried to knock her over chuckled.

Keith tightened the arm around her waist, used the other to hold her arm around his neck, and then walked out of the bar.

By the time they got the pod back to the castle, the stress had worn off and both of them were _drunk_. Pidge was giggly, Keith was just smiley and stumbling. The two were doing their best to hold the other up, but it was difficult and they fell as the made their way over to a waiting Shiro.

“Shiro!” Pidge greeted cheerfully, waving from her position on the floor. “Lookit, look Keith. It’s Shiro.”

“Hey man. Why are you upside down?”

Pidge burst into laughter at Keith’s question.

“Why are you both drunk?” Shiro asked, ruthlessly pulling them to their feet.

“Had to.” Keith said, deathgrip on Shiro’s arm as he tried to steady himself. “Ran into some local color--” Pidge’s giggling resumed--”and it was either this or…”

“Fisticuffs!” Pidge shouted with a grin. “Keith was all stoic and badass facing down those douchebags, Shiro! You shoulda seen him.”

“Thanks Pidge.”

Shiro sighed. “Okay, healing pods and then tomorrow, I want the full story.”

“Yessir!” Pidge saluted and giggled. 

“Can you walk?” Shiro asked. 

“Of course.” Keith declared confidently. When Shiro let him go, Keith took one step and fell. “Just not at the moment.”

Shiro looked to the ceiling, asking for strength, and then looked to her, but she shook her head. “If he can’t, I can’t.”

“Hunk!” Shiro called through comms. “I need your assistance in the hangar please.”

“On my way.”

“You just going to leave him there?” Pidge asked, pointing at Keith’s sprawled form on the ground. 

“I can’t comfortably carry you both.” Shiro explained, shifting Pidge in his arms so he was carrying her bridal style. 

“Liar.”

“Do you want to be carried like a sack of potatoes?” Keith asked, rolling slightly to get a better look at Pidge.

“No…”

“Then stop arguing.” He rolled back. “Besides, I’m fine here.”

Hunk came in the hangar and looked at the three of them with unchecked curiosity. “Uh…”

“Get Keith to the med pod, Hunk. I’ve got Pidge.”

“They okay?’ He asked, worried.

“We’re fine.” Keith said as Pidge said, “We’re drunk.”

“Oh. Okay.” Hunk pulled Keith to his feet and helped him stand.

Keith groaned and stumbled along after Shiro with Hunk’s assistance. “Pidge, I don’t care how cliche it is; next time, I vote for the barfight.”

“Agreed.” She moaned.

**Author's Note:**

> _I have fallen into the Voltron fandom. I regret nothing! Except that I'm apparently in uncommon ship hell... Anyway, while it won't be 30 ficlets as I'd originally planned, I am still in the mood to write for this fandom. There are two more already written that I'll post later next week, and tentative plans for a couple others, but if you have a request or a prompt you wanna shoot me, I am 100% open._
> 
>  
> 
> _For those who are familiar with my other work, I am 30k words into the Sterek fic, but it is slow going. I'm sorry. I also have an 89k word Hobbit fic that is done and waiting for me to start posting. So. You'll be hearing a lot from me in the coming weeks, but probably not for Sterek. I am actually sorry about that._  
> 


End file.
